


you won't forget the boy next door

by tertulia



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Coming of Age, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deep Conversations, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Pining, Romantic Comedy, Sleepovers, Slow Burn, Stargazing, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Romantic Tension, also, boy next door, dw, guys this is really. so soft, hyunjin is literally, implied minchan - Freeform, literally., lol, lots lots lots of pining, lots of them - Freeform, n thats a long ass ride.., skzsecretsanta, skzss2018 lol, thats it i think, theres no smut tho, theyre all v silly, uh. ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tertulia/pseuds/tertulia
Summary: the story of how hyunjin whipped and nae nae'd into jeongin's life.or: the six times seoul saw jeongin fall in love and the one time it didn't.





	you won't forget the boy next door

**Author's Note:**

> based on real life experiences by your go to best friend dating lesbian

  
**i.**

“You know, if I had my way, we'd sleep every night like this,” Hyunjin whispers to Jeongin's hair, his voice muffled from the heavy sense of comfort pairing in the room. “All wrapped around each other, like hibernating rattlesnakes.”

The younger boy laughs, his hair now a gentle brown instead of the usual raven black. It makes him look less sharp, the new color. “You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have.” He then answers, tone cheesy and contemplating as it's supposed to be. As Hyunjin dreamed someone could once be.

“Don't quote Fitzgerald to me like that, you player,” he charms back, incapable of not doing so. Hyunjin feels his voice slurring into a sort of british, definitely boujee accent. “Sometimes, Jeongin, silence is better than a bunch of meaningless words.”

“You keep quoting back, though. I know that one. Mia Sheridan.” Comes back in the form of sassiness, Jeongin's lips pressed against Hyunjin neck when he answers that. Like this, things feel funny - they're two, cuddled in bed, arguing as if no intimacy laid upon then. Even when it clearly did. “I'll have you to listen my favorite quote about silence: ‘Sometimes, his silence is better than anyone else's words.’”

Hyunjin hums. “Red Queen. Great book. Are you confessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin chuckles, and he doesn't sound kidding at all. “My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness, hyung.”

The elder laughs, the sound of it airy enough to make kites sing. It's breezy, refreshing, a gulp of water between two eternities of damning thirst. Jeongin smiles, but Hyunjin cannot see it, for he's too far away.

“I don't know that one. I guess you won,” Hyunjin doesn't sound defeated, in any aspect.

Jeongin cuddles closer. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

14 year old Jeongin is an incredibly nice boy. Everyone would say so. He says ‘thank you’, ‘please’, ‘bless you’, helps his mother when he cans and kisses his sister's cheek goodnight when he has the time to. 15 year old Hyunjin, however, is not. He's passionate, ragingly so, choosing dance over the things he should be interested in, so he's frowned upon by many. His mother, a widow from the last house of the street, is a much older woman than most ladies on the neighborhood, and there are rumors around it that Hyunjin is adopted. Jeongin thinks he probably is. He never asked.

What brings them together, as far as he could see, is the gape of time between days, as Jeongin has classes only in the morning and the rest of the afternoon to spare. Hyunjin goes to school in the late, late night, and Jeongin has no idea why, even though he'd like to know. It's another thing he never asked. Hyunjin has many rumors surrounding him, it would be rude to do so.

They spend their time on the local library next to Hyunjin's house, a tall victorian building with shells and shells of books. The threat of boredom has got the best of them one particularly long evening, and they've tried to numerate all of them. Jeongin stopped at the 98th book. Hyunjin at the 345th. He's very smart, much more than most people would think - Jeongin feels a weird twinge of proudness whenever he remembers it, but maybe it’s sprinkled with jealousy, too. Jeongin himself isn't a golden star student, but he tries his best, the complete opposite from Hyunjin, who just doesn't need to try. He's sort of a young prodigy, but the younger thinks the pressure over his head is a bit too much to bear sometimes, so his and Hyunjin's friendship serves them more as a comic relief than anything else.

It's a sleepover, and suddenly Jeongin is fifteen. Midnight strikes like lightning over his head, marking the start of his 15th birthday, a few days before Hyunjin's own sweet sixteen. He's trapped between the older’s arms when it happens, but something in his core remains still, as if time didn't really pass. Inside him, no war nor battle were the case - in his fifteenth birthday, Jeongin had his first hollow night, in which the soul inside of him gave up on trying to keep up. Hyunjin is an amazing friend. His brother, Chan, choose their family over studying abroad. His mother let him stay home alone with his best friend in the world for two entire days.

But Jeongin felt nothing. Nothing except for the overwhelming press of reality, the passing of time no concept worth grasping. In his fifteenth birthday, Jeongin found himself switched off, like a light bulb. Hyunjin's arms around his shoulders felt like walls putting him down, and the comfort they usually would provide vanished under the pressure of a dull vibration, a little thought placed wrong in his head that made all the other thoughts inflame in chaos.

There's no such thing as that, Jeongin argues with himself. He could just be tired. But from what? It's not like it was a crushing change. The idea of getting old, however… As far as Jeongin could see, nothing in his life has ever been this scary before. Not even Junseo, who bullied him in first grade. Not even that dumb horror movie he made Chan watch with him.

Then, it hit him: This wasn't a normal kind of fear.

 

 

**ii.**

 

Jeongin just had to figure out what it was. It could take days. It could take years. It could just never truly have an answer - and that freaked him out. How come one can simply feel things he doesn't know? Feelings are inside of you, an extension to your senses, a reflex of whatever you've been put through. How could Jeongin not know what he's going through? It should be impossible so. But the proof is in how agonized he seems to be in the few days he's been around the bizarre number of fifteen. What a weird, incoherent number. Fifteen people aren't many, but still, they'd already be bigger than most cliques Jeongin knows. Although it seems like an innocent questioning, it spiralled him into bigger, deeper things, which he could not ignore just for the sake of it. It made Jeongin realize how awkward it is, to be alive, and to be so young. Even when sixteen arrives, it still feels weird.

He has no experiences. He's never been in love before. Being sad is new. Wandering around, lost, is now a common path. Seoul is filled to the brim with social and economic injustice. Santa Claus doesn't exist. Everything kind of hurts a little. And things are always a bit weirder than they need to be, like the inappropriately loud sound of moaning neighbours and the flowing of time. Things aren't bad, but shouldn't they be better? His father loves him, so why Jeongin feels wrong, somewhere in his gut, when they're talking? Hyunjin's hands are pretty, so why holding them feels shameful?

These are just a couple of answerless, never attended questions. Jeongin has too many of them, and yet, thinking about it rarely happens. He's almost always surrounded by Hyunjin, and being sad next to him is very difficult. Jeongin just finds himself getting a laugh out of everything, and the sun just seems to settle better when Hyunjin's around.

It's hard to know why, though. Jeongin's year passes like that: wondering, wandering. Hyunjin doesn't seem to notice time passing by either, as his hair now is long enough to make a ponytail. Days come and go, but the world seems froze, a mere scenario where Jeongin moves, alone. Alone. Alone. That's another strange word. Being alone is weird, but also recomforting. Jeongin learned there's two types of alone:

One is the state of being by yourself physically. He's alone like that a lot these days. He sits around and waits for his mom to pick him up when school's over, and sometimes she's late, so he gets to be the last person in the building before it closes. It's nice. It feels like a whole other world when people aren't around, and the silence is pleasing. Normally, Seoul is so busy - his school is the only place he knows where things just seem to be what they are, empty, silent. Acceptable.

The other one is tougher to get. It meant being alone in ways the silence could not help. People felt alone all the time, no matter how many others surrounded them. Jeongin has felt like this multiple times, but he guesses words only have meanings when they're inside of you. Back when he learned about the alphabet, and writing, and the meaning of alone, Jeongin never thought he'd feel it in his bones, but he does, now, and that's just another thing to live with.

Growing up is much lonelier than he thought it would be, but things aren't that bad. There are lots of great things to hold on to: limonade, cats, Hyunjin's nice thighs, his mother's pie, the scratch of a pencil over paper. Jeongin finds pleasure in those things, and they always seem to change, as everything seems new again now that he sees it with his own eyes. He recalls being a child, and it's not much different than now; Jeongin's still wide eyed at most of the stuff he finds in his way, and he still doesn't get a lot of things. He's also still useless in most situations. And he has no money.

As insufferable as it can be, nothing can bring him down in the very day of Hyunjin's seventeenth birthday. Birthdays meant sleepovers, sleepovers meant the universe was aligned enough to let Jeongin have a night where he's alive and sipping on stars, laid under Hyunjin's roof as if the place could last forever. As if not even time could demolish the weird, kinda crooked last house on the street, where Jeongin has had his best days. Times will come and hopefully go, but Hyunjin's house - that's a place that's going to last forever. That's a place time can't capture or infiltrate.

Day flies fast, wings spreaded and objective, cutting the air and in between clouds like a knife. Hyunjin's hair is pulled up when Jeongin gets to his house, and it's a pity how adorable it is. He's wrapped in his blanket when he opens the door, eyes sleepy, his voice gently slurred. It reminds Jeongin of a puppy, how Hyunjin clings to the doorway to hold himself up, and it's a tragedy, really. His heart, where it lays, gets immediately soothed.

“Hi,” he says.

“Innie,” Hyunjin nods, giving space for him to get inside. “Sorry for the wait, I was sleeping.”

“I can see that,” Jeongin chuckles. Hyunjin's gaze softens. “Where's ms Hwang?”

His mom is sitting on the kitchen table, a book spread over its superficie while her reading glasses pend to her nose. She must have been a really pretty woman in her day, Jeongin could see it. Her lips are thick, like Hyunjin's, and her eyes are a warm brown, slightly droopy with high cheekbones. Without the wrinkles and stains of time, she would probably look like the singers Jeongin sees on the TV all the time, and it makes sense she's Hyunjin's mother. For a second, he wonders about how Hyunjin will look when he gets to her age.

“Night, Innie. Have you eaten yet?” her voice is deep, and her words seem a bit drowned, but Jeongin has learned to like that.

“Yes, ma'am. I ate before coming,” he smiles. Hyunjin, by his side, lays his head on Jeongin's shoulder, clingy.

“Hyunjinie wanted to order takeaway, though. I'm not going to be here for the night. Make sure that he eats, Hyunjin,” she gives him a look, closing the book swiftly and guarding it in a purse next to the table.

“Will do!” her son chirps happily, snuggling closer to Jeongin and letting out a small yawn.

The way Hyunjin talks when he's excited resembles a bird's screech, bright and loud, which makes Jeongin realize that everything in Hyunjin is sort of hummingbird-like, in a strange, endearing way. He's very tall and therefore clumsy, since his limbs are so long, but he's very bubbly, and behaves himself like a large dog who forgot its true size. Furthermore, he's also moved by a strong sense of almost blind optimism, and even when he's falling down he seems graceful, grant the bird comparison. Hyunjin always seems to be spreading his wings.

Jeongin loves hummingbirds very much, but he loves Hyunjin even more.

“You don't have to worry, ms Hwang,” Jeongin exhales softly, his left arm wrapping around Hyunjin's torso. It feels domestic, and so, so juvenile. It's almost weird how young Jeongin feels.

“I don't have to. But you're really dear to us, so I do anyways,” she smiles, approaching Hyunjin and lightly kissing his forehead. Then, she squeezes Jeongin's hand quickly, and in a minute she's out of reach, disappearing under their street's trees.

What a breezy, barely there but insanely good woman, Jeongin thinks. Hyunjin's mother is but a wind spirit, for she has no substance except for her infinite affection. She's also never around enough for Jeongin to know more than that.

The moment she's out of the house, Hyunjin drags him to his own bedroom, yawning. His room, although messy, is really nice to be in. Its walls are a light shade of grey, and there's nothing much to it, except for Hyunjin's posters of various artists. They're mostly all korean, but his recent interest in Queen has gained a place on his wall, and Jeongin thinks it's the prettiest between them all. Hyunjin's taste in music reflects a lot of who he is.

Hyunjin lies down with a squeak, pushing Jeongin down and hugging the younger boy to his chest like he would do to a stuffed animal, his leg coming to rest over Jeongin's. It's nothing abnormal, as Hyunjin has proven throughout all his life that he's touch starved, but Jeongin doesn't really care either. It's gentle, nice, Hyunjin smells good and is very dandy, contrary to popular belief. That's why his next words shake Jeongin just a little, since he never expected Hyunjin of all people to want to walk out of the line.

“Innie, today we're going to do something we're not allowed to,” his voice is mischievous, but happy, not pushing but not exactly giving Jeongin a choice either.

Jeongin chuckles, and a thousand images go through his head. “And what's that going to be?”

“Drinking. I'd say smoking but I don't want you to feel forced to. But I'm going to smoke.” He explains, gesticulating for Jeongin to listen carefully.

Drinking. That's nothing to worry about, Jeongin believes. He's never been drunk before, and adults make it seem like a big deal, but it doesn't feel like it. There's nothing extreme about drinking, and the only thing that could possibly harm him is the environment, but for that he has Hyunjin, whom he'd trust with his whole life if asked to. It just seems odd that Hyunjin is so adamant about something so normal, and barely exciting at all, when he's the one who didn't like to go out a lot in the first place.

Jeongin blinks. Maybe Hyunjin found himself a girlfriend with whom he'd like to party, but that has no sense. Something sitting in the start of his throat bothers him, and jealousy stings his stomach.

“Alright,” he says, nonchalant, after a brief moment of silence. “Why, though?”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I don't know. I guess I just want to try it before I get too old.”

The younger hums, and lets his hands rest over his belly, looking up at the ceiling, thoughtful. Not exactly about Hyunjin, just… Pondering over his path all the way to here, and all that lead him to the particular decision of going to the end of the world if Hyunjin wanted his company. What a weird, absolutely illogical feeling, but essential to his life as it seems. Jeongin thinks that, without the burning urge to be with Hyunjin wherever he goes, he'd probably be dried up in experiences, and therefore would live a life he wouldn't remember just for the fear of things going wrong. So, by all means, Jeongin only truly lives when Hyunjin's around, and, to his great pleasure, the time where Hyunjin's not next to him has yet to come.

“But you're not even close to getting old. You're sixteen, you have a whole life ahead of you.” Jeongin argues.

“I don't think I'll live that long,” that's all Hyunjin answers, his voice quiet, a shameful undertone in it as he plays with Jeongin's fingers.

“How so?”

He shrugs again. “I don't know. I just have a feeling that I won't make it past my 20s.”

“Don't be stupid. Of course you will. Why wouldn't you?” and if Jeongin feels himself getting a bit worked up, he tries his best to will it down.

But a world without Hyunjin - no, there's no such thing. There's not a life after Hyunjin, for his existence is dragged out like smoke, and his life lies over every piece of Jeongin's, intertwined together ever since childhood and maybe even before that. Who knows what happens in the universe when there's no humans around?

“I don't know, I'm just saying… I don't see myself in five, ten years. It just feels wrong and exhausting to even think I'll be here that long,” he says. The way he explains it makes Jeongin see the fear behind his words, but it's not like the younger doesn't understand. It's not like Jeongin doesn't feel like that too. “Is it weird? That I feel this way?”

Jeongin stops to think for a moment. “A little, but not because it's uncommon. I think it's just because you shouldn't feel this depressed.”

“Makes sense,” Hyunjin hums. “You're so smart. Sometimes I can't believe how much you've grown.”

That brings a airy smile to Jeongin's face, stretching from ear to ear. The last year has been about thinking, wondering, and he found himself gaining lots of knowledge about everything that surrounds him, himself included.

“You're only older by a year,” he points out.

“Yeah, but it doesn't feel like it,” Hyunjin hugs Jeongin closer. “For all I know, watching you grow up has been the only purpose of my life until now. What am I going to do when you fully bloom?”

Jeongin playfully slaps his arm. “I don't know, man. Get a job.”

Hyunjin stretches over to Jeongin's side, and hits his face with his elbow. “Nah, that won't happen. You know I won't need one after I graduate.”

The younger sighs, hugging Hyunjin's arm to himself. “Yeah, I know.”

And saying those words, for whatever reason, felt extremely painful.

 

 

**iii.**

 

Teenagers are very weird.

Jeongin sees them every day, be it at school or at the street, on the internet or Hyunjin literally banging on his door. But these are places where you have to keep a level of decency in order to don't scare other teenagers, and most of the times the idea of doing certain things in public are threatening enough for them to back off.

Parties, however, are the number one spot of long awaited freedom. Without the press of responsible eyes over their napes, most teenagers Jeongin know get to their wildest, consuming any and everything at once because moments like that, when you're young, are incredibly brief. Still, Jeongin never took Hyunjin as someone who would enjoy that kind of settling, but he guesses that truth lies in the way Jeongin's sat on an empty, worn out couch, asking himself where could a boy like Hyunjin go in such a place. The lights are purple, red, blue, and so, so pretty. Jeongin gets kind of lost in it, so he's not about to complain. The thing that gets to him the most are the people, though; they're so weird, and unusual, and unpredictable. Jeongin is infinitely curious, but shyness chains him to the couch.

A girl approaches him through the crowd, long red hair falling over her shoulders prettily. In the dimly lit lights she seems like a fairy, or a mermaid, or about everything magical. Like Hyunjin, she has a mole under her left eye. Jeongin's heart opens up like the clouds on a newly raised sunny day.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks. Her face has no expression - nor happiness nor sadness nor anything at all. Indifferent like Jeongin has never seen someone be.

He shakes his head. “No.”

The girl sighs, then quickly nods, sitting beside Jeongin. It's a complete silence between them for a few minutes before she speaks up again. “Hi.”

Jeongin bites down a smile. “You don't have to make small talk with me if you don't want to. I'm fine with silence.”

She sighs again, now looking relieved. “Thank God.”

And they sit. For an hour, for less than it, Jeongin has no idea. A few people approach the girl sitting next to him, but she waves them off with a sour face, looking deeply uncomfortable with everything surrounding her. She spares no look at Jeongin, which is honestly a blessing, as he has no idea of what bonding in parties should be like. He only knows that, from time to time, someone passes by and offers him a cup, and every now and then, Jeongin actually accepts it. The girl speaks up again when the same black haired woman offers him another drink.

“What are you giving him?” she asks, eyes piercing. She looks sharp.

The woman shrugs. “It's juice.”

“Oh, please. You're not giving him juice,” her voice cracks a little, stern. “He's a minor.” She grits out the last part.

The woman stares back at Jeongin for a moment, and as realization downs at her, she quickly excuses himself off. The girl next to him takes Jeongin's cup out of his hands and takes a sniff into it. She makes a face.

“It's vodka mixed with something very gross. Have you been drinking this for real?”

Jeongin looks at her through falling eyelids. “Out of boredom.”

She laughs a bit, then asks: “What's your name?”

“Jeongin. Yours?”

Her laugh is pretty. Jeongin feels grateful for whatever just happened, as he could use some company.

“Soojin.” She all but spits out, giving Jeongin his cup back. “That woman wanted to get you drunk so she could take you home. Don't go around accepting drinks like that,”

“Sorry,” Jeongin smiles sheepily. “I wouldn't really go home with her.”

“Sober you probably wouldn't. Drunk you, though… That's a whole other dude,” Soojin says, cleaning off a few crumbs on her skirt. It's a nice one, Jeongin actually likes the red flower pattern. He'd look pretty in it. Soojin does, too.

“Hyunjin wouldn't let me,” he explains to her. “He'll protect me.”

Soojin takes a double look at him. She doesn't seem like she believes it. “Definitely.”

“He will.”

“If you say so.”

“Because he will.”

“Sure.”

“What makes you think he won't?” Jeongin asks, frowning.

“Well…” she starts. “He's not here with you, is he?”

“What kind of question is that?” his frown deepens.

“I'm just saying. If it weren't for me you'd be in some pedo's bed right now.” Soojin points out. “And there's no Hyunjin around. He wouldn't even know what happened to you.”

Jeongin blinks. “Oh.”

They stick to silence for another bunch of meaningless minutes, Jeongin's mind stitching thoughts as time passes by. When he speaks again, there's more gratefulness than heaviness in his heart.

“Thank you. So much,” he adds in the end.

Soojin looks at him briefly. “It's fine.”

“It's not. Things could've been worse if you weren't here.”

“Maybe,” she answers, pulling a cigarette out of her pockets. She fiddles with it a little, like she's deciding if she's going to smoke or not. “How old are you, Jeongin?”

“I'm sixteen. You?” he asks back, out of politeness.

“I'm sixteen too.”

Jeongin takes a double look at her, staring hard at the cigarette in her hands. It can't be. It doesn't seem right. “No way.”

Soojin gives him a strange look. “Why? Do I look older?”

“Very.” He answers, truthfully.

A minute passes as she seems to be pondering her answer very carefully.

“Sorry. I'm a girl. We have to get older much sooner than you guys,” she shrugs.

Jeongin frowns again. “How so?” And something in his mind gets heavy, guilty, dark.

“Just look at things. Really look at them,” Soojin commands. “I'm fifteen, I know how a drink with roofies smells like, I can recognize dubious consent from left to right. You don't even know what you're doing here, Jeongin. That's the difference.”

Silence dispons upon them for what it seems like the 100th time that night. Jeongin chews on her answer, analyzing and storing knowledge carefully, and Soojin doesn't seem stern, just… Stressed. Tired. She's scanning the crowd of people with crossed arms, her brows furrowed like she's in deep thought.

“Sorry,” and Jeongin doesn't really know what he's apologizing for. An historical debt, perhaps. The conscience of his own privileges sinks in deeply, bites at his brain, and Jeongin doesn't seem to find a way to logic in or out of it.

Soojin shakes her head, strands of red hair sticking to her temples. “Apologies accepted.” Her voice sounds softer when the music is blasting, as if she's whispering, but that's not quite it.

“Wanna get out?” she asks, all of a sudden. “I could use some fresh air.”

Jeongin looks at her, really looks at her, like she told him to. She has wide shoulders, more broad than most girls, and she's wearing a sleeveless black shirt, a few sprinkles of makeup on her eyes. Pretty, but not dressed up like the other girls at the party, which makes Jeongin think she didn't really want to be here. But, then, why would she come?

“Why are you here, Soojin?” he changes subjects, staring at her.

She looks taken aback for a moment, but it quickly fades. “I came with friends.”

“Then where are they?” he raises and eyebrow.

“You can't ask me this. Hyunjin isn't here either.” Soojin fires back. Touché.

“Yeah, but I really came with him. Why are you here? For real?”

Soojin stares at him. “It's none of your business.”

And it really isn't. Jeongin doesn't know why he's so curious, why he's so enthralled in what Soojin seems to understand better than him. Maybe he's starved for information, for any kind of worldview that isn't his, but then, it could be just plain interest. His costume of overthinking things could've gotten to him. Sometimes, he learned, things just didn't mean anything at all. And sometimes you had to deal with that in order to accept life as it is.

“You're right,” he answers, quietly. The cotton of his clothes feels sort of weird, and Jeongin felt himself slowly deflating, like a balloon.

His thoughts pour over his head in a flood of subjects with little to no consistency, fragments of old, unvisited thoughts dripping around as his attention gets gradually smaller, shrinking to the point where Jeongin's body is completely numb. Like a machine, his limbs stay cold and quiet where they rest, although his brain seems to be doing ten leaps at each dragged breath. Once again, being alive felt weird.

Soojin comes and goes, disappearing into the crowd then coming back after a few minutes, looking like she just stumbled into this place and had no idea what anything is like. Jeongin doesn't stare at her, since it would be creepy, but he keeps her in his thoughts even after she goes. Something deep in his core feels mudgy, dull, and deeply ungrateful. Soojin protected him, in ways Jeongin expected Hyunjin to do, and he didn't really thank her enough, even though she would probably have done it to anyone. Good people are like that, most of the times.

When she comes back again, Jeongin holds on to her wrist gently, and lets it go on an instant. “Do you still wanna get out?”

“I'd like to,” she smiles.

It's a nice smile. Her nose scrunches up, and it reminds Jeongin of someone he's seen before, but a part of him has no idea who that is. The mole under her eye is too close to Hyunjin's, and between it all, Jeongin's heart hurts with longing. He misses him. It's close to midnight, which means that, in a few minutes, Hyunjin is going to be seventeen. And Jeongin is still going to be a fool, who wants to be around him so, so bad.

 

 

  
**iv.**

 

Drinking is good. Soojin taught him that.

They sneaked out a bottle from the party, their suburban neighbourhood fading grey under the night lights. The view was so beautiful, Jeongin couldn't help but giggle at everything, because life felt… Easy. The streets felt walkable, Hyunjin's lips felt kissable, and the place where he was just felt right, as if a missing piece of an old puzzle had just recently been found, and now it all fits kind of better. He sat on the curb, dipped in the realness of his situation, and the moment seemed like every single first Jeongin ever had, mixed up with a little bit of sadness because that's inevitable. The sky is pretty, wine is good, and Jeongin has been in love this whole time. Soojin told him so.

“And he's so… He's so pretty. I just… Want to be around him so much. Want to make him happy. To make his sadness less crappy,” he sobs into the bottle, Soojin's eyes loving and caring with their roundness. “Do you really think I'm in love?”

“Buddy…” her voice is gently pitiful. “I don't think so. I'm sure. You're in love with Hyunjin.”

“I'm in love with Hyunjin,” he repeats after her, letting the words sink in. He doesn't fight against it; it's about time he realizes it's true.

“You are.”

“Now you know my biggest secret,” Jeongin says, voice slurred. He takes another sip before continuing: “Tell me one of yours. So we'll be even.”

She stops to think for a second, then takes the bottle from Jeongin and gulps its liquid down. “I hate myself.”

Jeongin blinks. “That's not special. We all do. Tell me a real secret,” he whines the last words, grabbing Soojin's arm for emphasis.

“I- Hey, isn't that Hyunjin?” she stops mid-sentence, eyes getting wider as she looks over Jeongin's shoulder.

“I don't know, is it?” Jeongin closes his eyes, a sigh in his voice. “I can't see.”

“It is!” Soojin's voice gets louder. “It is! Jeongin! Go talk to him!”

She slaps him, to make him move, and Jeongin whines. “And say what?”

“Flirt with him!”

Flirting with Hyunjin. That would be the first time Jeongin had ever flirted with someone, and to do it with Hyunjin of all people. However, thinking about doing it with someone else feels wrong, rubs him off in a unsettling way, and Jeongin would gladly run and leap at Hyunjin's arms after it.

“No.” He pushes himself out of the curb, standing up and staring at where Soojin's eyes are. “I'm gonna tell him.”

Soojin stands next to him, the bottle tentatively hanging from her lips mid sip. Her lips are red, like her hair, and Jeongin doesn't really understand this attraction thing, but he'd kiss Soojin. That's where difference lies, Jeongin guesses: He'd kiss Soojin, because she's pretty, but he wouldn't marry her. Jeongin would definitely marry Hyunjin, though.

Crap. He has to confess.

“Good luck, bud!” Soojin screams from far away when Jeongin starts running in Hyunjin's direction.

Hyunjin is the tallest between the people around him, and he's surrounded by boys that look about his age. One of them has bright orange hair that could be seen from the other side of the street, and all of them have their own bottles. The only one who doesn't is a broad blonde guy with narrow eyes who has a hand on orange haired's back like a father. Or like a boyfriend. Jeongin scrunches his nose - boyfriend is such a big word. He never knew it would be a part of his life.

Does he want to be Hyunjin's boyfriend? Absolutely. So bad he almost blows his cover, trying to hear what they're saying as he hides behind someone's shoulder.

“Guys, come on! Show some reaction!” orange haired whines petulantly, stomping his feet on the ground.

Hyunjin giggles. “Anyways!”

“Oh, please,” a boy with a deep, low voice interferes. “Your jokes are terrible,”

The blonde boy steps a bit more closer to their circle, his lips twitching up. “You know, Felix, when little boys are in love they annoy their objects of affection by pulling on their hair, so they could get their attention,” his tone is suggesting. “Are you, by any means, trying to pull on Jisung's hair?”

All of the boys laugh, and Felix - Jeongin supposes it's him - gets undoubtedly red, his ears barely matching the color of his outfit. They're all wearing shades of black and grey, and Hyunjin's presence is the only splash of color, as he's wearing a yellow shirt.

“Speaking of which,” Felix starts. “Hyunjin, where's your lover boy?”

They all make a sound of “oooh”, and Hyunjin shrinks in his shirt. “Making friends. Saw him with a girl earlier.”

The blonde one frowns. “Were they…?” his voice trails off, as if the words could upset Hyunjin. Unconsciously, Jeongin mirrors his frown.

“No. ‘t was Soojin. You know she wouldn't.” And oh. Oh. They were talking about Jeongin.

“Maybe, but you can't trust her that much. I mean, she's…” a tall dude gesticulates something Jeongin can't see, and a black haired guy with a pointy chin steps a bit closer to him, his face harsh.

“What?” he grits out. “She's what?”

“Changbin,” blonde guy says in a warning tone, but Changbin glares at him. He backs off.

“You know it, dude. It's not because she's your sister that she's not a whore,” tall dude spits out. “Besides, you know what happened with Seu-”

“Shut up!” Changbin growls, wrapping his fingers around the guy's throat. “Keep her name out of your mouth!”

And it's so violent. So harsh and angry in all its meanings, Jeongin can't help but whimper in fear, because he hates it. He hates the sudden change in the atmosphere, the hatred behind gritted teeth, Hyunjin's eyes widening much more than he'd ever seen they do. Like this, he looks innocent, young, and Jeongin wonders how the hell someone like him got in such a situation. But even more, he wonders about Soojin. About the things she did to have someone bad talk her like that, about what kind of heart she has to have a boy so crazy to punch someone for her. In his core, Jeongin kept the certainty that, no matter how, or when, or where, Soojin was loved. It was a relief.

The fight gets more heated up as people surround pointy chin and tall dude, crowds chanting different names while the previous circle pressed to each other, blonde guy in front of Hyunjin and Felix like he'd rather take a punch instead of seeing them getting hurt. Jisung, the one Jeongin saw before, stands besides Changbin with wide eyes, as if ready to jump in if it gets too much. Jeongin is swallowed by the crowd, and he doesn't care enough to know what's going on, he just wants Hyunjin out of there. Jeongin tries to reach him, but it's useless; he's guarded by blonde guy's broad shoulders, and Jeongin goes back to Soojin with a sulky face.

“How did it went?” she asks, making space for Jeongin to sit, sympathetic.

“I couldn't reach him. There's a fight,” he explains, pouting. Jeongin takes the bottle from her, and it's the first time he notices her ripped fishnets. Also, her knees have a lot of bruises.

“A fight?” Soojin seems alarmed. “Who's fighting?”

Jeongin bites his lip, debating whether or not to tell her. “It's about you. Some guy, I don't remember his name… Chang-something.”

At that, Soojin sighs deeply, getting out of the curb with tired eyes. She hands the bottle to Jeongin, and sprints away to the crowd, no words left between them. After a few minutes, things seem to die down, and Jeongin just sits there, far away, numb.

He just wants Hyunjin.

That's a scary thing to think about - Jeongin could’ve wanted a lot of other, different things. There are hundreds of thousands of places to see, many animals to pet, money to spend, people to know, but even then… It's not Hyunjin. In his heart, Jeongin knows that anything would pale in comparison to him, which is new. He always thought about it as brotherly, or perhaps he always imagined that all best friends felt that way, but now, things felt clear. The path is bright, the city is whispering to him, and God, since when was Hyunjin so pretty?

He literally just wants Hyunjin. Just that and nothing else. Money, fame, luxury, knowledge. Nothing could be as reassuring, as glad, as gentle, nothing would ever fit just as right as Hyunjin does. Out of everything, out of every breath Jeongin has had, out of every flower picked and every doodled homework, the answer sits clear: Hyunjin. That's all that's been around him and all he wants to see.

His head spins, and memories sink into his brain, dance around it. Jeongin could've done so much better in what he searches for, but being in love - it made him quite dumb, honestly. It made him silly, reckless, tipsy. It made him drink a bottle of wine with Soojin. It made him see a street fight. It made him do a lot of things, but regretting is not something Jeongin has the time to do. As he sits and watches, his heart feels timeless. For sure, this moment will be treasured and missed, as long as Jeongin has it in himself to wake up in the morning.

A few moments pass before Hyunjin finds him, looking scared and every bit guilty. His eyes, sort of watery, gleamed red.

“Innie!” he yells, breathless. “Oh, thank God, I was so scared you got lost in the fight…”

Jeongin gets out of the curb, and as soon as he knows he's engulfed in a crushing hug, Hyunjin's small hiccups of worry razoring through his heart. “I'm fine, hyungie,” then, something very important comes to his mind. “Happy birthday.”

Hyunjin sobs on his shoulder, and somehow it shifts from their previous position to Jeongin holding him. The taller boy crouches down and lets out a watery laugh, squeezing Jeongin tight enough to prove that he's afraid one of them will fade away. They stay like that for a while, Jeongin swinging Hyunjin's frame side to side, calming him down like he'd do to a baby. He shushes him after a good time of rest to Hyunjin's panicked heart, and eventually the older boy starts to feel ease creeping in, despite still crying.

“Hey, don't cry,” Jeongin whispers to his hair, just like Hyunjin did when they were children and Jeongin got hurt. “It's your birthday... C'mon, let's go to McDonald's. Don't cry, I'll let you have my fries!”

But Hyunjin could not stop crying. Not even for the life of his. So Jeongin did what he knew best: he hugged him, tight. Swayed Hyunjin to the left and to the right like dancing. Patted his back. And it felt like comfort for the both of them, even though Hyunjin was the one in despair.

 

 

**vi.**

  
Somehow, after McDonald's and many, many tears, they found themselves laying over the grass of Hyunjin's backyard while facing the sky, summer heat swinging over the clouds as if a curse to the entirety of Seoul. The green isn't really green, and the white in Jeongin's shirt isn't really there, too, for the whole world feels blue under the moonlight. Like a tunnel of vision, or maybe a dark, empty room, everything seemed a deep and washed down shade of indigo, gently lapping over every color in Hyunjin's house and spreading like fairy dust. The moon, magnificent as it is, feels far, far away, too far to even care about Jeongin's stupid feelings and Soojin's unknown whereabouts.

It's a good moment to confess, Jeongin thinks, but as he looks over Hyunjin and sees his peaceful features, it's hard to put his own feelings as a priority. It's hard, because light traces his cheekbones, because his skin looks tanner than before, because there's a pimple on his nose and it really is so, so human. He seems so young, and real, and everlasting. Jeongin doesn't has the courage to say anything at all, so he doesn't. He keeps quiet, and after a minute, he closes his eyes, because looking at Hyunjin could sometimes hurt him.

Silence is such a hard concept to grasp. Jeongin is here, Hyunjin is there, and they're understanding each other although no sound is made between them. It's weird for it to not be physical, but heavily metaphorical; after all, Jeongin feels like there's a third body with them, but silence isn't touchable and so isn't Hyunjin. On that exact moment, they're two islands, an ocean apart.

“Jeongin,” the older calls.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Jeongin knows Hyunjin is mere seconds away from a confession, too. It was easy to figure out. For a moment, he wondered if that was truly what he wanted.

Still. It's Hyunjin. Jeongin would wait years, decades, centuries even.

“Yes,” comes his answer, gently rolling over to watch the older boy stare at him with some sort of glint in his eyes.

“Ah,” and just when Jeongin feels like Hyunjin is about to do it, things easily deflate. “Cool. Cool. Cool. Nice.”

Classic Hyunjin. Jeongin laughs, freely, softer, and the air doesn't seem filled with tension anymore. Romantic feelings or not, Jeongin never forgot they're best friends in the first place.

“Yeah,” he answers, lovingly. “Cool. Nice. Tight.”

“Absolutely,” Hyunjin says. “Being in love? Cool. Rad. Totally.”

Jeongin looks at him, under the moonlight, being silly. The striking urge to kiss him is almost deadly. “Swaggin’ into love, I'd say. You should whip and nae nae into it.”

Hyunjin rolls over on his side to look at Jeongin. “Oh my God, you're my dream boy.”

The younger's eyebrow shoots up, coy, and Hyunjin is taken aback by the change in the shape of Jeongin's eyes. Did they ever do this before? Is it normal that someone could look so much like a kicked pup in the fraction of a second?

“Am I?” and he's flirting. Jeongin is officially flirting. Flirting with his childhood best friend. He bats his lashes at Hyunjin; there's no turning back now.

“You are.” Hyunjin answers, truthfully. “You make me happy. You make me Fortnite dance happy.”

Jeongin gasps. “Stock photo woman eating salad happy? Like, happy happy?”

“Yup. Happy happy.”

He hates the Fortnite dance. Hyunjin adores it. Jeongin must be really loved.

In his heart, it feels… Weird. Deep, deep down, things are absolutely bizarre, like a malfunctioned machine. Jeongin feels peaceful, but giddy. Little guitar chords play in his ears, and he wishes he could feel like this every day, because it'd make life so much better, much less insufferable. Jeongin wishes someone would have told his last year's self that he'd feel like that, that a night with stars would drip over him and Hyunjin would say something along the lines of Jeongin being his dream boy. How mind blowing it is, to imagine how he got himself in this exact moment. To his own brain, he promises to never mess around with time travel. He can't risk losing this night.

“What a life, huh?” Hyunjin pokes him a few minutes of silence after.

“What a life,” Jeongin agrees. “It's so weird, isn't it?”

“What's weird?” he curiously asks, looking at Jeongin with wide eyes, eager.

The younger just gesticulates to the world around him. “Things. Things are so weird. They don't make any sense.”

“They do, sometimes,” Hyunjin snorts, as if Jeongin just told a joke. “Not always. But they do. Mostly.”

Jeongin shrugs.

“I don't know. I just feel like the honeymoon phase of life is gone,” he explains it further. “Now, it's just… Kind of uncomfortable. It feels like I'm just now realizing the bad things, and they just keep coming to me...”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin hums. “But at least you're gaining knowledge, right? I mean… One day it'll be comfortable again.”

“I guess,” he lays on his stomach, crossing his arms and resting his head over them while looking at Hyunjin. “I think I'm just afraid of not being excited about things anymore.”

“Makes sense,” the older agrees.

“Hey, about that…” Jeongin starts, getting sleepier at each word. Tiredness hits him hard. “Did you mean it? About not making it to your 20s?”

Hyunjin keeps silent for a moment, and Jeongin worries he crossed a line, but they're best friends. If Hyunjin won't tell him, then who would he tell?

“No. I don't know,” he sighs. “It's complicated. I know one day it'll, eventually, be alright, but right now… Everything just kind of hurts a little bit.”

“And life feels weirder than it needs to be, right?” Jeongin completes it. “I think about this too. Things aren't bad, but shouldn't they be better?”

“Innie, you're so smart,” Hyunjin says, out of the blue.

The younger all but keens at the praise. Hyunjin just always seemed to know what to say, always seemed to understand that Jeongin took most pride in his brain than in anything else.

“Thank you,” he says. “But, really… I understand. I don't think you're going to die, Hyunjin. I just think growing up has been a bitch to you.”

He agrees. “It has.”

“‘m sorry,” Jeongin gently takes his wrist. “I wish life would've been kinder to you.”

Hyunjin laces their fingers, and his hands are clammy, warm, a breathing, living thing over Jeongin's. His brows are furrowed, but - he looks moonstruck. Like Jeongin just promised him every single patch of land in the world, like he just offered him the moon, the sun and every single star.

Maybe he has. Jeongin knows what he said, but it's hard to know what Hyunjin understood.

“It has been kind enough to, you know…” and Jeongin could physically see Hyunjin jumping out of his fears. “To make we find each other. To make you my best friend.”

It's now or never.

“Do you have anything to tell me, Hyunjin?”

“I do,” Hyunjin breathes out. “But you already know.”

“I don't.”

The older sighs. “It's nothing. I just... love you.”

“I love you too,” Jeongin smiles. It's hard to get disappointed with that.

Confession could wait. The world could wait. That moment, which Jeongin has had a million times before, was a priority. Hyunjin was a priority.

And when Jeongin went to bed that night, a big part of him wondered about how their story spiralled into what it is now, and an ever bigger part wished he did more than just wonder, alone. He tried to understand why Hyunjin in the first place, but that's too easy. Weird, he guesses, would be if it wasn't Hyunjin. There's a whole lot of ‘becauses’ that are filled quickly and sharply, almost like a machine. Because they're best friends. Because he’s beautiful. Because his lips look soft. Because they grew up together. Because he has that pink turtleneck shirt. Because Hyunjin is his first, because Jeongin wishes he could be his last. Because Jeongin prays there will never be a last.

Sleeping is so weird when your life keeps disenrolling even if you're not there to see it. Jeongin closes his eyes, but times always move forward, and it's scary. While he's asleep, there's Hyunjin in the bed besides him. And maybe he's moving, changing, evolving. Maybe his mind is already in a completely different direction than it was in the start of the day, than it was a few minutes ago. Jeongin does get sleep, but the feeling that the world doesn't tickles at his brain, like maybe he's forgetting something. When the dark tiredness arrives, though, things get empty, and sure, a movie scene slowly darkening. It feels unnatural at first, but then, when he's drifting off, his body wonders why it is not doing this all the time. And every night is the same, with the same scare and the same rocking boat of calmness.

When he wakes up, the next morning, the window is open and Hyunjin is seventeen. The sun rises, and Hyunjin is seventeen. Life is weird, and Hyunjin is seventeen.

Jeongin isn't seventeen. Jeongin is a year younger. Which, in practice, wouldn't mean a lot of things, but it sort of feels like it does - they feel like a whole life apart. Hyunjin is silly, but deeply troubled, and his emotions are three dimensional in a way Jeongin's messy, confused thoughts could never come close to. Life, to Hyunjin, speaks in shades of grey, when Jeongin is trying hard to just keep from black and white. The shape and depth of their feelings towards each other, towards the world, towards themselves, proves to keep surprising Jeongin as time goes by, but he assumes it's an experience based thing. He knows Hyunjin has been through a lot. Not exactly what that lot is, but he knows, by how Hyunjin acts. By the rumors. By their late nights.

Still, it's dumb. His head hurts just by thinking about it so early in the morning. Jeongin rolls over the other side of the mattress, staring at the foot of Hyunjin's chair because he's sleeping on the ground despite his protests. It's a nice, surprisingly hot sunday morning, and sleep molds Jeongin's eyes when he stretches a little, still in bed. His blankets are all on the ground, Jeongin probably having kicked them because of the heat, and the sun roams through Hyunjin's dark blue walls like it's meant for it. Hyunjin's bed, as Jeongin could see it from the floor, was messy and empty.

March morphs into december like that, no questions needed. Years, as Jeongin came to understand, don't really have any substance, and most of the times all they do is melt into each other discreetly, barely there if any. For him, who's had a year with enormous gaps and peaks of reckless rush, time went by like a trainwreck; it all moved slow, but certain, until the crash came and things just burned down quickly, without a sound. Other people's minutes were different than Jeongin minutes, he also came to perceive. Time, as it is known by society, could not apply over the rule of the heart, which meant that in the last year Jeongin experienced decade-lasting seconds and light speed hours. He came to know minutes with his entire life inside them and days with the time substance of a lighting, for they came as quickly and sharply as they left.

Life, he decided, is much more than what it seems to be. Life is beyond Hyunjins and Soojins, beyond annoying classmates and sour tasting beer, hence its everlasting light towards anything that manages to keep itself under the sky. Much more than just what Jeongin knows, life is patience, fields of rural work, New York city, war, injury, general calamity and an infinite amount of warmth, all sprinkled with some sort of hope everybody has. Jeongin finds it in himself, nowadays - how he wishes well to people, how he manages to help, how his brother's big smile is a heart relieving sight. Hope is stored in everything, sold in most places, and affordable to anyone's pocket money, even to tall, awkward, incredibly bony boys like Jeongin. Hope is similar to a lot of things, but exactly alike to none. Jeongin still has to decide if he likes it or not, but every step of his is fueled by the curiosity of hope, by its effort in keeping him from the moose, and as long as he doesn't figure out where it comes from, it stays there.

Stay. It's another bright word between countless ones. It's dipped in lavender, fresh, and pretty. It has family, time, physical labor and kindness into it. Jeongin tells himself to stay a lot of things, these days: Stay soft. Stay kind. Stay patient. Stay there. Stay by their side. Stay. Don't go. Try again. Do better. Jeongin has it to himself that it meant much more after watching people leave, and staying is the part of life where sleeping comes easily and hands lace together like they belong.

Staying is what Jeongin wants to do. Staying is what Hyunjin can't do.

The news came to him in a particular may afternoon, two years after that day on the garden, when he received the letter by mistake. It said in pretty handwriting that Hyunjin has been accepted in some college, which, of course, has to be in a city Jeongin has never even heard of. Actually, he has heard of Australia before, since Chan's father lives there, but still - no. Which place in the world could be better than Seoul? Why would Hyunjin want to study abroad, anyway? He has a life in Korea. He has his mother (even though she's been pretty sick lately), he has… Jeongin. He has family, even if not bonded by blood. Hyunjin even likes the old ladies from their street! They're family too!

But Jeongin understands. Really. He's not mad about it anymore. Hyunjin has to be happy somewhere else, cool. It happens. Sometimes people part away, sometimes they simply grow up and apart. It's fine. It's completely fine. They're keeping it like it always had been, even if Jeongin's mom watches them with sad eyes every now and then. It only hurts when he thinks about it, so Jeongin barely does. With life, it's easy to push such things aside so their last days (what an awful word choice to even think about) don't feel too sad, too bittersweet. It's a silent agreement of theirs to keep quiet about Hyunjin leaving, so it doesn't feel like parting. It's not forever, anyway. Maybe he'll come back.

But to what, specifically? There's nothing for Hyunjin to miss in Seoul. There's no familiar environment to fall back into. There's no good reason to stay. Jeongin can't even tell if Hyunjin would miss him, because it's hard to keep being the same person he'll leave behind, and so there would be no one here to miss. Not a single thing about his past life that maybe keeps him hooked on the idea of coming back. The only thing that could last under the years is their sort of platonic, extremely problematic relationship, but Jeongin has come to accept that having Hyunjin's friendship far away would be worse than having Hyunjin's hatred next to him. And wouldn't it be cruel, to just confess? To sit down and tell everything Hyunjin has been dying to hear, but a week before he goes away to God knows where in the purpose of doing God knows what?

It would. It would be so cruel. It would be selfish and painful and Jeongin could never bring himself to do it, even if love can oftenly be all of those things. It doesn't hurt as long as Hyunjin is here, but anxiety fills him up, builds to the day he leaves, and it's a very thin layer making those things safe. Jeongin is afraid of being too selfish in his actions, but clinging to Hyunjin is almost a second reaction in its naturality, so life just… Goes on. Jeongin trusts all will work out one day, because it's the only available belief for his situation.

Hyunjin's last day in Seoul lasts a little longer than a heartbeat. Jeongin's first day of longing lasts for four years.

 

 **vi**. i.

 

The 23th day of december was both a blessing and a curse, as Jeongin suffers to recall. Hyunjin has been silent for days now, barely making himself approachable as time narrows down to his last day in Seoul. What a weird, strange boy, Jeongin would like to think, but he gets why Hyunjin has been in another plan, lately. Jeongin himself wouldn't like to make it a sad parting, because there's nothing more hurtful than feeding the misadventures of life to grow bigger, to take even greater control of his life, so he acts as in norm as possible. When he calls Hyunjin, it's never any sadder or happier; in fact, these days, words just seem to freely flow from his lips, none of them meaning anything at all.

It's something most people do. Nod when they're told to nod, smile when someone smiles first. It's not necessarily fake, Jeongin assumes. Most of the time, it just came as a tool for survival, a way of maintaining your core untouched by meaningless interactions. Everybody does that. You can't be close to everyone.

Although Jeongin finds it very hard to turn it off with Hyunjin, these days. It's bizarre - when he's with Soojin, Jeongin never feels it, but with Hyunjin words get rarer and rarer to find. They do talk, but the tension sits heavily between them, like maybe something is missing, something very precious that they don't know how to save. It's gentle, the soft roaring of lonesome in their ears, because it's never spoken. It's just there. Like a celestial body up on above, it hangs with no sound, bathing in the pleasure of dismission.

But december 23th is another kind of day. Everything feels loud, clear, too big for the space it occupies. Butterflies swing left and right, whether for excitement or sickness, and they warn Jeongin of something ahead. A sign of displeasure of the universe was clear in every snitch in his clothes, every piece of fabric, every patch of cement, even though it could be just the darkening of Jeongin's own mood. It's the dawning of new times, he knows it, and when he wakes up tomorrow, things would be different already. Jeongin drags his feet through the grown, making his way to Hyunjin's house in the slowest steps he could possibly do. Any moment away from tomorrow counted as a longer second of today.

Still, he got there. Hyunjin's house has never changed. The walls were still kind of ugly. The front window was still broken, from Jeongin's doing. When he got to the door, the spare key was still under the decorative snowman. Snow still fell over the roof, slowly melting. This is christmas, Jeongin supposes, when Hyunjin is about to be gone.

The door makes a creek when Jeongin opens it, and Hyunjin is sitting in the couch, looking nice. Too nice, actually. His hair was combed to look parted, and he was wearing one of his nice shirts, the ones with flowers on it. His glasses, now useful to make him look older, sit on the top of his nose. He looks deeply grown, nothing alike the kid Jeongin knew a few years ago. Something in his chest is rageful, picky, burning up Jeongin's core. How long has it been since he saw Hyunjin with bandaids on his knees and big, blue glasses? When did they start to not fit his face anymore?

A lot of things changed. Jeongin hates himself a bit for not having noticed them sooner.

“Merry Christmas,” Jeongin takes off his coat and places it on the hanger. “Blessed be the fruit.” Comes an useless joke, covering spots of seriousness in Hyunjin's traces.

The older boy laughs, although it is very much quieter. “You know I hate that show.”

“Only because you're a scaredy cat,” he humors him. “It's very important. Socially relevant. You should get into it.”

Hyunjin snorts. There's a glass cup in his hand, and Jeongin knows it's whiskey before even looking at it. Coming of age has got Hyunjin hooked on that thing, which isn't much of Jeongin's liking, but doesn't seem half as bad as what other kids of his age are doing.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” the older says. He stays quiet for a second before patting the spot next to him on the couch. “Come here.”

Gingerly, Jeongin makes his way through the papers on the floor. Sitting next to Hyunjin has become weirdly tense, and their knees brush slightly. His palms are sweaty, so Jeongin tries to clean them on his thighs, only to brush his elbow over Hyunjin's chest, and it's enough. Jeongin makes some space between them. Hyunjin just watches.

He looks much older now. Grown. His shoulders are wide, kinda like Chan's. His lips are bitten and hurt in some spots, which means Hyunjin has been stressing over something. Jeongin could relate more than anyone.

“What is it?” Jeongin asks, after Hyunjin keeps quietly staring at him.

“Well,” he starts. “Can I offer you whiskey? I know I technically shouldn't, but I won't deny it if you ask.”

Jeongin waves him off. “No, I'm good.”

A few silent moments pass, again. Hyunjin takes a deep breath.

“I don't know how to tell you this,” his lips are dry. Jeongin could see it. “You already know. We both know. And this could be awful.”

Jeongin hums, motioning him to continue.

“But I- maybe we could- maybe one night wouldn't kill. So here it goes,” Hyunjin's voice shakes a bit, like he might burst into tears. “I like you. A lot.”

“I-” Jeongin tries to answer, but he's carefully shut down by Hyunjin's hand on his wrist. His eyes, when they look at Jeongin's, are red, and dead serious.

“No, please,” he sighs. “Let me.” Then, he continues: “I know life is shitty. And I know I've been wanting to die ever since day one. Things are pretty bad, for the both of us. I know this. But I like you. A whole lot. And not on the best friend type of way. You have kept me happy, all this time.”

“I like you too.” Jeongin whispers, but Hyunjin keeps going as if he said nothing.

“Yeah, I- I figured. Which makes it even worse, because…” Hyunjin releases the air through his lips and takes another sip of whiskey before continuing. “I'm leaving. You know it, right? I'm leaving. But I… And I hate it's like this, but I… I'd love to be your first kiss. And other firsts. But I can't promise you that after tonight it'll be what you deserve, because it won't. You know.” And maybe a few tears do drop out of his eyes. They swim throughout all of his face, gliming against the light. Like that, his suffering feels tainted. Jeongin has no idea what to do with himself.

“Is this all?” Jeongin asks, wrapping a hand around Hyunjin's, eyes nurturing. When the older stutters out a yes, he talks again. “Thank you for being honest with me. I know it's hard. I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin nods, and Jeongin gently wraps an arm around his middle, swaying him like he did on that summer night. “It's fine, Hyunjinie. Life does things. But it's going to be fine.”

The older lets out a watery laugh. “Why are you comforting me? I'm the one who's leaving. I should be telling you that.”

“Because I want you to be happy,” Jeongin chuckles. “Because I know Australia will be kind to you. Because I want to kiss you too.”

“Good,” he says, nuzzling Jeongin's shoulder. A few dried tears shine on his face, and Jeongin can't believe this is how they're ending. He can't believe this is what points a dead end to their years of pushing and pulling.

But the end is the end. And Jeongin has nothing to lose. “I'm in love with you.”

It takes a few seconds for Hyunjin to swallow it whole. Seemingly chewing on it, he stares at Jeongin's face, like he's searching for a lie. There is none, and Hyunjin gets closer and closer. To the point his lips are brushing over Jeongin's.

“Since when?” he asks. It feels good. Provocative, even. As if Hyunjin is finally getting to his senses.

“Since sixth grade. When you counted all those books and I had an intellectual boner.” He answers back as passionately.

“You're a loser,” Hyunjin says. Their faces are so close. “For me, it's ever since I met you. You came home with your parents and I couldn't stop crying because I wanted to see you again.”

“You're a cry baby,” Jeongin shoots back, raising his eyebrow. He pushes his hands to Hyunjin's shoulders, like daring him to come forward and make their lips touch. “What's your next move, Hyunjin?”

His tear stained face darkens in a mischievous smirk. “What's yours?”

“I don't know. I like this guy, but he's kinda dumb,” Jeongin breathes the words, bribes them out of his throat.

“I'm in a situation like this too,” Hyunjin teases. “The guy is kind of oblivious, but I can't imagine him having his first kiss with another boy.”

Jeongin hums. “Then you should hurry.”

“I should.”

And they kiss.

After years.

What a soft epilogue to a hurricane of a history, Jeongin thinks. Hyunjin's lips are pillowy, and pinkish to the taste, stimulating Jeongin's own with every color of the rainbow. His hands fly to Hyunjin's neck easily, and soon enough there's no stopping, the older's back hitting the soft pillows of the couch as Jeongin all but climbs him with hugs, happy out of his mind. Kissing someone is, of course, clumsy, and maybe their teeth clack sometimes, but they found themselves along the way. Jeongin doesn't want air. He doesn't need it as badly as he needs this. His hands run up and down Hyunjin's back, and it feels like a tragedy that it won't last forever.

Who needs other things? Kissing is rad. Kissing Hyunjin is even more rad.

It's hard to break apart, but it never lasts long. They spend the whole night like this: Kissing. Making up for the lost time. Making out for hours because Jeongin would miss this. So much. Because that's their last night together and Jeongin had to give all, so there would be something to miss in Seoul for Hyunjin. And he tells him that, when they're laying in his bedroom and Hyunjin's alternating between kissing Jeongin silly and watching the movie on his TV screen.

“You know, you better miss this when you're in Australia,” Jeongin says, poking his side.

“I will,” Hyunjin pecks his lips once, twice. Again. Just to be sure. “Of course I will.”

“You better,” he half jokes. “You'll be kissing australian boys right and left, but remember: None of them will nag at you in Busan satoori.”

Hyunjin laughs, and props his head up in his elbows to stare at Jeongin. His eyes are soft, and gooey, and dripping with fondness. “They won't. It'll suck.”

“No, it won't,” Jeongin protests half heartedly, moving Hyunjin's hair out of his eyes. “You'll meet someone nice there. Someone small and cute. Your type.”

Those words don't hurt. Jeongin is too conformed with his own destiny. Eventually, he'll find someone too.

“And you'll find a nice guy. Or girl,” Hyunjin adds. “They will be understanding. And sweet. And they'll blush when you jump on them like you did on me.”

“Yeah. Like you blushed.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“No!”

“Come on,” Jeongin kisses him again. Mostly to make him stop arguing. “You know you did.”

“Stop winning arguments with your lips,” Hyunjin whines, flicking his forehead.

“Make me.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Stop flirting!” The older slaps him lightly.

“No. Soojin told me to flirt with you a year ago and I'm still going at it.”

“You're awful.” Hyunjin says, burying his face on Jeongin's neck. Ironic, much.

“You're beautiful.” Jeongin answers, cheesy.

And he wasn't lying. Hyunjin has always been beautiful. Even after that night, when all he could see from him could be held in a phone screen.

Beautiful. As always.

He never changed.

 

  
**iv.**

 

Hyunjin isn't the only one to leave. Soojin does too.

On an escape from an abusive father, she left behind a few footprints and a letter, thanking Jeongin for his heart and for their times together. Furthermore, she even promised to call from wherever she was. Her brother, the only remain of Soojin in Seoul, took it as his job to keep Jeongin protected. He's a nice guy, the same one who got in that fight the night of the party. Seo Changbin. Seo Soojin. Jeongin never knew her last name until she left.

That Christmas wasn't sad. Nor happy. Jeongin remembers it as a day like all the others that came after Hyunjin left. He missed him for the little things, and there was no one to talk to, and it all felt sort of empty. Eventually, things just lost their color, only to regain it again after a few months. Like the earth, things died and bloomed in an eternal loop of hurting and healing, until Jeongin learned to deal with it. His graduation, the one he feared the most, went by smoothly, with glitter in his hair and a new friend to congratulate him. Turns out Jisung, one of Hyunjin's friends, was incredible company. He had blue hair, the dark type of it, and a heart shaped everlasting smile that took its place in Jeongin's heart. Suddenly, things just pierced themselves back together, his feet learning to walk in tall snow rather than to sink in it.

Next Christmas is easier to swallow. He exchanges gifts with his mom, and with Chan, and with his new girlfriend, Jihyo. Jisung shows up too, and Jeongin spends the last hours of Christmas in Jisung's bedroom, playing scrabble over cans of beer. He recalls it fondly, too, how Jisung slow danced with him to his mother's holidays album. Back then, Jisung's cat was just so small. They almost tripped on her multiple times.

His third Christmas without Hyunjin was marked by Minho, a new friend Jeongin made in college. Since his mother was out of town, they all spent it together, drinking wine and giggling slurred lyrics to TWICE’s songs. Minho, the tease he is, forced Chan to dance with him in a pretty bow, the both of them putting up a show for their guests. Jeongin never saw his brother that happy, not since he broke up with Jihyo. Jisung’s cat, Soonie, found a friend in Minho's new kitten, Doongie. Jeongin found himself alive again under the mistletoe, when he kissed the cat's nose lovingly.

The next Christmas gave end to a crazy year. Jeongin found himself a boyfriend, to whom he broke apart after a few months due to the lack of time, even though they still hook up every now and then. Soojin, having being away for years, visited Seoul's suburb one last time to kiss Jeongin's cheeks and annoy him about being right over Hyunjin. Seeing her leave for the second time left a thrill of gratefulness behind, like Jeongin had made all the right choices in life. Like he had nothing to regret.

That Christmas, Hyunjin came back. A lot more tan, a lot happier, with fading grey hair. In his summer clothes, he felt sunshine-y and out of place, the snow towering over the world outside while they reencountered themselves within the time spent away.

And yeah, it may have took them some time to get back to where they left. But Hyunjin has always been beautiful, and Jeongin would always want to kiss him, four years ago or in the exact moment of today. Besides, he was honest enough to admit: There had been other people. But none of them nagged at him in Busan satoori.

So, the answer is simple. Why Hyunjin?

Because he's beautiful.

Because they're best friends.

Because four years aren't nothing.

Because it's Christmas. And he's here.

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas to hyyunjinn on twt and tumblr~ 
> 
> as off now, i'm officially out of hiatus. bless vacations and holidays. i hope you liked it and i'd be the happiest to answer your comments. bye! merry christmas and happy new year!!!!!


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